


on the riverbank

by Crimson_Voltaire



Series: Kinktober 2017 [12]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Original Percival Graves, Cute, Husbands on an Adventure, M/M, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Picnics, Play Fighting, Teasing, Wrestling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 06:24:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12359418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crimson_Voltaire/pseuds/Crimson_Voltaire
Summary: Credence and Percival moor at a riverbank, climbing up the steep slope and mooring their canoe to a sturdy tree limb hanging low over the water. Credence sighs and stretches, looking around. It's a dead zone here, he can't use his magic. All that means is Credence will set up their picnic the old fashioned way.If they get up to something else too, well, someone brought oil.





	on the riverbank

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd as always, all mistakes are my own.

**October 14 th – Role-reversal**  
  
Mud slides between his toes, cool and slick. The banks are steep and slippery, dappled motley green by the sun shining through the canopy. It’s quiet here, just birdsong and wildlife and the sound of their breathing as they haul the canoe to the side and moor it to a strong tree limb hanging low over the water.   
  
Credence sighs, arching his spine and stretching his arms wide, taking in the tranquility. The river bubbles merrily, bouncing down the channel towards some rapids in the distance which rush and hum. Overhead, a chickadee sings, his chest puffed proudly and little black cap gleaming in a patch of sunlight. Credence smiles up at him, before finding a nice spot beneath an ancient Yew tree to set up their picnic blanket and basket.   
  
He can’t use magic here – it’s a dead zone. Well, not really, because Credence can feel the magic thrumming in the earth and the trees and the air, but earlier Percival pulled him close and whispered in his ear. Asked him not to use magic until Graves said so. _There are things here, Credence, beyond our comprehension. It isn’t a good idea to draw their attention_.   
  
So Credence returns to life as a no-maj for the time being. He opens their basket, withdrawing the mason jars of lemonade and the sandwiches they’d created together at home. There’s a container of pickles and one of carrot slices and some tarts for desert. Graves settles beside Credence with a soft sigh, so close their legs brush. Credence gives him a bright smile and offers him a sandwich.   
  
“It’s beautiful here,” Credence murmurs. He feels the need to speak quietly, like it’s a blanket, weighing down on his shoulders. Like if he speaks too loudly, he’ll shatter the peace around them. Graves grins back, taking Credence’s offering. Their fingers brush, callouses against callouses, and it sends a shiver down Credence’s spine.   
  
“It is,” Graves agrees, unwrapping the wax paper. He takes a bite and Credence watches – the way the glass sharp edge of his jaw works, the play of muscle under his temple, the bob of his Adam’s apple when he swallows. Graves cocks a brow, playfulness dancing in his eyes.   
  
“You’re beautiful,” Credence says in way of answer, and then flushes. Graves rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling widely. All sharp teeth and a fond curl of his lips. He is beautiful, unfairly so. Ma would probably have labelled him unholy for just his looks alone. They grow more fine and beautiful the deeper they recede into the forest, towards it’s heart. Features refine, the round curve of Graves’ ear becoming pointed, his jaw and teeth gaining an edge that wasn’t there hours ago. His eyes deepen to all but black, and the border between iris and white is blurred, like it could change at any moment. It all belies an ancestry more than merely human, and it’s exciting.   
  
Graves swallows around another mouthful, both eyebrows coming up this time.   
  
“ _What_?”  
  
Credence shakes his head and laughs. He reaches for his own sandwich now, undoing the wrapping and biting in. Flavour bursts across his tongue, almost drawing a moan from him. Ma’s been gone three years, and yet every meal is heaven after a lifetime of dull soups and porridge.   
  
“Nothing.”  
  
They spend the rest of the meal in relative silence. Graves steals a tart before Credence can even offer it to him, biting deep into the lemon filling and groaning. His eyes shut in pleasure, and the expression crossing his face does things to Credence.   
  
“Good?” Credence asks. Graves nods and moans, “Mmmhmm… Jacob’s?”  
  
Credence ducks his head and flushes, taking his own tart with raspberry filling and nibbling along the flaky crust. It’s rich and buttery and wonderful. Graves chuckles, he can read Credence like a book.   
  
“I should stop you, y’know; Credence Graves cavorting with a no-maj, what would people say?” The sarcasm is so thick on his tongue that Credence can’t help but laugh. A thrill runs through him at the sound of their last name hanging in the air, at the reminder that he is Percival’s and Percival is his.   
  
“You’ll have to arrest me, Director,” Credence teases. Graves cocks his head, giving Credence a long look before that slow and fiendish smile blooms across his face. The younger squeaks, already trying to scoot away on his bottom. Graves lunges suddenly, muscles uncoiling like a great cat’s. Credence’s vision is full of pale skin and dark hair and mischievous eyes and then hands are wrapping around his wrists. He shrieks with laughter and wriggles, writhing and bucking against Percival’s strength and solid weight.   
  
“You are hereby under arrest for breaking the Statute of Secrecy,” Graves growls, blowing raspberries on the freshly shaved skin of Credence’s slender neck. The younger cries out in mock horror. Graves grins into his skin, “I’ll let you free on one condition.”  
  
“Isn’t that extortion?” Credence quips. Graves hums and shifts, slotting between Credence’s legs, so his chest is against the younger’s belly.   
  
“Hmm, maybe.”  
  
“What is it then, this condition?”  
  
When Percival looks at him, his eyes are wide and liquid and deep. Credence swears his irises have blown outwards, encompassing more of the man’s eyeball than they have any right to do so. It’s eerie and yet fascinating. The hunger in those eyes though, that’s _exciting_.   
  
“A kiss,” Percival says simply.   
  
So Credence kisses him, hard and deep and long, slow, sugar on their lips and tongues, the sweetness of the tarts lingering. Percival moans when Credence nips his lip, releasing the younger man’s hands in order to cup his jaw. Credence grins, and uses his newly freed hand to tweak the point of Percival’s ear. The man growls, and Credence laughs.   
  
“Sensitive?”  
  
“You’re a tease,” Graves pouts.   
  
“You deserved it, extorting your poor, innocent husband,” Credence murmurs, stealing a peck, and then another, and then another. His hand abandons Percival’s ear to run wild through the man’s silky hair, brushing it out of his eyes so it flops charmingly to the side. Graves just grins,   
  
“How can I make it up to you?”  
  
This is where Credence hesitates. He’s given it some thought, this concept he’s been entertaining for days and weeks on end. They’ve done it once before, but it was such a long time ago, Credence doesn’t even know if Graves remembers. Or if it’s been lost in the banks of their many couplings.   
  
“L-let me have you?” He whispers, so quiet one could be forgiven for thinking he hadn’t spoken at all. Credence doesn’t expect the quiet, easy grace with which Percival accepts his question, although really, he should. He knows his husband.   
  
“Of course.”  
  
The hunger in Percival’s eyes is still there, but it burns differently now, less predatory and more… Excited. Credence’s breath leaves him in a rush. Percival lets Credence upright and then swings his legs from underneath him, reclining back on his elbows and letting his husband see the long, toned expanse of his body encased in a soft grey dress shirt and tight black pants. They’re more like leggings than proper trousers, Credence thinks, entirely indecent. Thick thighs fall open, like an invitation. Credence scoots closer, until he’s between them, close enough to run his hands over the soft fabric of Percival’s shirt and tweak sensitive nipples through it. Percival’s head falls back in a quiet sigh, a smile tugging at his lips.   
  
Credence continues, hands roaming his chest until he finds the line of buttons and begins to undo each of them, one at a time. When Graves’ shirt pools around his elbows, Credence lifts each and peels it off of him. Then comes his undershirt, leaving Percival’s broad shoulders and lean sides on display for Credence to admire. The older man is nowhere near as wiry as Credence, who never really grew out of his lankiness, but he’s trim, powerful in the lines of his ribs and hips, and Credence thinks it’s beautiful. His fingers catch the waistband of Percival’s trousers now, the button coming undone. He guides the thin black fabric down his husband’s legs, over the plush swell of his ass and those gorgeous thighs, revealing inch upon delicious inch of skin. And the slowly thickening swell of his cock.   
  
“Percival Graves,” Credence hisses, “You devil.”  
  
Graves laughs. It’s throaty and rough, the way it gets during these moments. The sound travels through the air straight to Credence’s own cock. Without thinking, he palms his groin. Percival’s eyes follow and his prick gives a little, interested twitch.   
  
“Do we have oil?” Credence asks, a little breathless. The excitement is rushing to his head as blood leaves. A high flush sits in Graves’ cheeks now, “In that extra compartment in the picnic basket.”  
  
Credence raises an eyebrow, but retrieves it anyways. He pours a generous amount into his hand and then warms it between them. Percival’s breath hitches when Credence settles between his parted legs again, spreading his cheeks. Credence looks to his husband for guidance, and then goes on when he gets a little nod.   
  
“ _Oh_.”   
  
Percival’s mouth falls open when Credence’s fingers swirl around the whorl of flesh, slick fingertips teasing, asking, looking for entrance. Credence slips just his middle finger in, just up to the first knuckle, and Percival jerks, pressing down into his hand. Practically begging for more.   
  
“ _Yes_ …”   
  
Credence gives it to him, stretching Graves wide, adding more fingers when he can take it and massaging his velvety heat. Muscle memory and his own experience tells Credence where Percival’s prostate is, and so he finds it with only a little trying. Graves stiffens, spine arching and rolling his pelvis into Credence. Pretty pink lips part, releasing a guttural sound. Percival’s eyes clench shut.   
  
“You’re so sensitive,” Credence marvels. His own cock is on fire, throbbing between his legs. Palming it only offers so much relief, the seam of his trousers is digging in uncomfortably. Every part of him screams to be inside his husband.   
  
“Fuck!” Percival moans, “Ughn… Right there.”  
  
“Here?”   
  
Credence drags his nail against Percival’s prostate, lighting up already sensitized nerves. Percival cries out again. His cock lies thick and fully hard against his belly now, the bulbous head shiny with need. Credence leans forward to take it in his mouth, and has only just got his lips around the tip when Percival’s hand descends, pressing him away.   
  
“Fuck me,” he demands, “Hard. No teasing.”  
  
Credence can’t resist such a demand. He only gets his trousers off, sighing when the press against his cock eases. Credence relocates the oil and slicks his cock up, taking his time, making sure Graves’ eyes are on him.   
  
“Ready?”  
  
“Mhmm.”  
  
Credence takes hold of Percival’s shapely calves, dragging the man close until his tailbone rests against Credence’s thighs. He parts Percival’s cheeks again, admiring the way Graves’ hole gapes and begs to be filled, slick with oil, before guiding the weeping head of his cock to Percival’s entrance.   
  
“Ohhhh…”  
  
He has to go slow, sinking in millimeter by millimeter, letting Percival have all the time he needs to adjust. It’s so hard to hold back, but Credence calls upon every fiber of restraint he has, carefully watching Percival’s face. When the cant of his brows has faded from pained, when those lines around his eyes and mouth soften ever so slightly, Credence adjusts his grip and shifts his hips. Percival makes a noise, something not quite human. So Credence does it again, building a rhythm between hard and deep and fast. Truly fucking Percival; Credence has to hang on to him to stop Percival from sliding off his cock.   
  
“Ugnnn! Oh! Oh fuck! Yeah, Creed, right there… Ughn fuck.”  
  
He’s so _loud_ – words spilling from him like water over the edge of a waterfall. And it’s all positively filthy, enough to make Credence’s toes curl and his rhythm stutter. He reaches forward, silencing Percival with a deep kiss. The man just moans into his mouth, face pulling with his pleasure. When they have to part for breath, Graves pants into his ear.  
  
“Yeah! Yeah Creed… Nnngh, fuck me… Christ, baby, there! There!”  
  
_There,_ is against his prostate, hard and deep. With each thrust, Credence focuses on striking it, driving Percival higher and higher. He wraps a hand around his husband’s purpling cock, stroking in time to his rhythm. Percival cries out, “Ohhh!”  
  
It only takes a little bit, a combination of the right angle and Credence’s thumbnail catching in the slit of Percival’s prick for him to come. Thick white paints his chest and belly, turning Percival into some debauched masterpiece. Credence swears and then begs for forgiveness, losing himself in the sensation of Percival clenching around him. He continues to stroke Graves through his orgasm, fucking his cock while he takes the man’s hole, until his control grows thin and he shatters.   
  
Credence is silent as he comes, head falling back. It’s white peaks of ecstasy, spilling deep inside Percival. Then he falls forward, onto a sturdy chest, uncaring about the sticky mess smearing between them. They kiss slowly, more gasping into each other’s mouths than true kissing, but Credence doesn’t mind.   
  
“I love you,” Percival murmurs, “So much.”  
  
Credence hums, “I love you too. Are you alright?”  
  
Percival is practically boneless underneath him, some sort of ragdoll. When he brings a hand up to run it through his hair, the movement is loose and shapeless. It tickles the embers in Credence’s belly – Percival is fucked out, and Credence is responsible.   
  
“Hmmm… Yeah.”  
  
They kiss again, noses brushing.   
  
In the end, they need to move on. They don’t know what’s lurking, privy to their escapades. Credence is a little sad to leave this tranquil place, but the sight of Percival grimacing a little as he eases himself into the canoe makes up for it, definitely.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I live off feedback, so don't be shy and tell me what you thought! Or come visit me on tumblr - I reside at luminis-infinite@tumblr.com. :D


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